


In The Blood

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: Mafia Blake AU [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where the White Fang is an organized crime family allied with the Schnee Dust Company to maintain their control over the Dust monopoly. Essentially, mafia!Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Debole

_Debole: Literally “weak”. The foible, or the half of the blade closer to the sword’s point. The role of the debole is primarily offensive: apart from its obvious purpose in the thrust, the debole should be employed in its entirety when delivering cuts._

_—-_

Through the tinted windows of the limousine, Vale was cast in grey. Washed out buildings blended into the washed out street, the shadows of passerby indistinguishable from one another. Weiss kept her eye on each passing corner, counting how many blocks they’d driven past. Father had refused to inform her where they were going, offering nothing more than a stern warning to pay attention.

She ran her thumb along the sweep of Myrtenaster’s hilt for the hundredth time. There was comfort in the steel laying heavy against her thigh, fingers daring close to the embedded barrel. In seventeen years, from the first day she thrust a dinner knife pretending it was a foil, Father had never permitted her to carry a weapon around other people, lest his daughter be mistaken for a common huntress. Their practices were always in private, grueling endeavors that lasted until her arm shook and her stance buckled. Thus Weiss had learned two important lessons; the value of endurance and that a Schnee was never supposed to lose. A double-edged sword when the competition was one’s father.

Yet he had ordered her to bring Myrtenaster tonight, out in public.  _You’re old enough now to understand every aspect of the business, to take responsibility as my heir_ _._  Weiss had assumed her entire life bred her to the responsibility of inheriting the company, but something about this meeting had her father bristling with both tension and pride. He had been silent the entire drive, occupied with sending messages back and forth on his scroll. In that aspect, it wasn’t different than any other night she accompanied him.

When the limousine rolled to a stop at the edge of the docks, Weiss frowned. Occasionally certain shipments came by boat, but they tended to be experimental ingredients or foreign guests. She wasn’t dressed for any sort of reception; practicality had been the order of the evening. No lace, no jewelry, no skirt; it was the first time she had ever seen her father without a tie bar and matching cufflinks. His suit was white with dull silver buttons, the platinum watch that always weighed down his wrist absent. The only sign of vanity was the Schnee family crest engraved on a single ring, set on the finger meant to signal marriage.

He turned off his scroll, waiting for it to compress into a small brick before sliding the device into a jacket pocket. Weiss stiffened instinctively when a broad palm pressed against her shoulder; contact was only used to emphasize a point, to correct. When she dared to meet his eyes, however, there was no anger in her father’s sky blue gaze.

“Do not disappoint me.”  He said firmly. “If you can’t make the beasts and rabble respect you, then no one worth speaking to will. Do you understand?”

Weiss understood enough to feign comprehension. The concept was simple, but he spoke in layers, expecting her to discern the heart of the matter in seconds. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. A Schnee adapts to every environment and then takes command of it.”

She longed to slap his hand away, to demand what sort of test this was, but his attention was already elsewhere, ordering their driver to park somewhere discreet. The locks on their doors clicked open and the touch was gone, her father exiting the car. It was then that Weiss realized her father hadn’t brought his own rapier. He possessed a hundred other blades, all forged with the power of Dust, but demanding that she come armed when he was not was nothing short of bizarre. Her fingers tensed around Myrtenaster before she slid out of the seat.

The building in front of them was non-descript in a rundown sort of way. Numerous holographic signs, some more broken than others, made for a nonsensical jumble of color in place of a name and only a single dark door allowed entry. The glass in the door had been crudely blacked out, preventing anyone from seeing more than a sliver of light from the inside. When a second car pulled up, Weiss spared it only a glance; her father’s bodyguards were little more than walking walls. She gave them as much attention as they gave her.

Four men in matching grey suits flanked them, short hair and dark glasses concealing any expression of individuality. The tallest among them spoke in low tones to her father, with all the grace of a mountain trying to be articulate.

“Sir, are you sure you don’t want to adapt the plan? The reports-”

“Either you’re competent enough to hold your post or you’re not.” Her father’s voice was like a flash freeze, the coldest edge of rage. “Which is it?”

The guard tilted his head down. “We’ll do the normal rotation, sir. My apologies.”

To think someone she had seen take a bullet for her father bowed so easily set Weiss’ teeth on edge. Strength without the will to use it was like putting a weapon in the hands of a child. The man had been a police lieutenant once, now he was a faceless toady. It disgusted her.

Two of the guards stayed outside to watch the perimeter, leaving one to lead them inside and the other to bring up the rear. Weiss matched her father’s pace up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway to a set of sliding double doors. After a second’s pause, the doors were drawn open, and Weiss heard the rasp of steel against a sheath. She couldn’t see past the width of the guard’s shoulders or her father’s height, but a glance between his polished shoes revealed two figures standing inside.

The moment they filed into the room, Weiss fought every urge to let her jaw drop. A shock of red hair initially drew her eye, but what emerged from it was another matter. Whether they were horns or a second set of ears she couldn’t discern from the odd shape, but there was no mistaking the man in front of her anything but a Faunus. A silver mask etched with crimson concealed the upper half of his face, but the mouth beneath it was set in a tense, displeased line. Being clad in black wasn’t uncommon, but the symbols decorating both coat and heavy gloves belonged to the White Fang, who would slit anyone’s throat for the crime of imitation.

His companion was Faunus too, but Weiss felt an unsettling wave of familiarity as she was pierced by amber eyes. Violet ears cut through hair the color of pitch, the latter bound back in a single heavy braid. She knew the face from a dozen wanted criminal warnings, displayed on advertising screens all over Vale. From the description, Weiss had expected a beast nothing shy of feral, not someone clad in a black suit. There was no tie, however, only the top two buttons of a crisp white dress shirt left open and revealing the dark lines of what had to be a tattoo.

When Weiss’ attention flickered back up, that bright gaze was still centered on her, unblinking.

“Mr. Schnee, I don’t recall you mentioning a guest.” It was the man who spoke, hand resting on the heavy pommel of a sword. The blade was sheathed, but that didn’t make it any less deadly if there was a barrel forged inside it.

“This is my daughter, Adam.” Her father gestured and Weiss put that much more steel in her spine. “I thought it was time she understood the full workings of the company. That includes our arrangement.”

She hadn’t struggled to hold a neutral face in years. Not since her father scarred her for threatening to run away from home and become a huntress, only to demand that she escort him at a party two nights later. Every person who asked about the injury was told it was the result of a youth’s fervor, an indiscretion. Everything was covered up, smoothed over, as if it hadn’t been his blade that sliced into her face.

Her father despised Faunus. A week didn’t go by without having to hear about how the bestial workers in the Dust mines were lazy at best and thieves at worst, useful for their ability to persist in the dark and little more. Those were high compliments compared to the venom he uttered about the White Fang, a family of psychopaths and saboteurs.  _Family_  was a loose word for the congregation of Faunus bloodlines, but they were bound by their amoral bloodthirst, the desire to see their kind raised above humanity.

Arrogance was their watchword, refusing to cover their animalistic characteristics in public while lashing out at any human who dared to mention them. High-ranking officers were said to be covered in tattoos from the neck down, inking their vicious accomplishments into the flesh for life. Time in prison was a point of pride, proof to humanity that they were implacable, no matter the severity of the punishment.

Weiss had read the news reports over and over, read the damages listed to Schnee holdings, not to mention every other fledgling company that tried to rival them in the Dust industry. Why then, was she standing in a room with her father and a pair of Faunus, one of which she was sure was a killer at large? What arrangement could possibly be made with the White Fang, renowned for their brutality and hatred?

“I admire your dedication to family, Mr. Schnee, but that doesn’t change the fact that our meetings have the strictest requirements for secrecy. Would you be smiling if I had brought six guards instead of Blake?”

Adam’s voice was unctuous, wrapping around each word like a snake, but the Faunus beside him glowered with anger. Weiss was aghast with the confirmation. Blake could only be Blake Belladonna, the shadow of the White Fang. Dozens of crimes had been connected to the name before the police had managed to obtain a single surveillance photo, much less a composite, but they hadn’t done any justice to that cutting stare. It felt like it was burrowing into her skin.

“No, but you know better, Adam.” Her father pointed to the sword the red-haired Faunus grasped. “Shall we get down to business?”

“Your guards first.” Adam countered.

Weiss watched as both men casually unbuttoned their jackets, revealing their Dust-enhanced sidearms. The weapons were taken from their holsters and deliberately set aside on the floor, just out of reach. They turned around and ran their hands down their backs and along the seams of their pants, making it clear nothing else was concealed.

“Now your daughter.” Adam said, head tilting towards Myrtenaster.

Her father had demanded she bring her sword, only to be ceremonially disarmed. Weiss bit her tongue on a retort, looking aside for confirmation. The nod she received in turn made anger boil in her gut as she bent her knees, refusing to lower her head as she put the rapier aside to her left, mindful of the color Myrtenaster was set on. White would serve its purpose in a close space, if something were to happen.

“Adam, if you would.” There was a hint of something like amusement in her father’s voice, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source.

The Faunus nodded, keeping the blade and sheath across upturned palms as he dropped to one knee, placing it in front of him. Weiss’ brow knit; it was a bold move, considering there was nothing keeping the sword from being swiped out of reach by her father’s foot.

“And now Blake.”

“Not until you see yourself disarmed, Mr. Schnee.” Adam’s smile was hollow. “I can practically smell the Dust trapped inside your coat.”

“I know your pet cat’s blade has reach far longer than this room, Adam. I have no intention of that ribbon ending up wrapped around my throat.”

There was silence, then. Despite where the discussion had turned, Blake’s eyes were still focused on her, as if there was no one else in the room. Perhaps it was meant to be a crude intimidation tactic, but Weiss couldn’t help the flare of irritation that went through her. No matter the motive, it was unbelievably rude.

This intricate dance had become nothing more than a stalemate. Her father’s arms were at his sides, giving no quarter, and Blake hadn’t even spared him a look, much less made a twitch resembling surrender. Weiss wanted to know what was going on, and she wouldn’t if someone didn’t swallow their ego.

“You could do it at the same time.” She said lightly, intoning a suggestion instead of an order.

“I like her already.” Adam chuckled. “How about it, Mr. Schnee? Surely you can come to common ground.”

“So long as you keep a tight leash.” Her father started to unbutton his jacket, and when it opened, a black harness was revealed, holding a dozen knives in place. The hilt of each was a different color, holding enough Dust inside to cause explosive amounts of damage.

They were withdrawn one by one as Blake pulled the dark blade from its sheath, setting it down with visible reluctance. The sheath itself was only put aside when her father took out the last knife, arranging it in a line on the floor with the rest. Weiss heard one of the guards let out a sigh of relief behind them. Idiot.

“Relax. You’re our guests.” Adam gestured before he sat down cross-legged, somehow making the movement graceful. Blake did the same, a fluid collapse of limbs that was mildly unsettling.

Weiss knew now why her father had insisted on a particular outfit, even if it left her looking like the poster child for a fencing tournament. Sitting as such in a skirt would be uncomfortable or awkward at best. It was an unfortunate realization as her legs crossed that she was the shortest in the room, even more of a disgrace that despite discounting the ears, Blake seemed to be the tallest by an inch.

“As I was saying,” her father began, folding his hands in his lap, “I wished Weiss to understand the importance of what we do here. I don’t want relations to sour when control of the company passes to her.”

“We could have easily arranged another meeting for that, Mr. Schnee. You can understand how the White Fang might be uncomfortable with a change in protocol. I’m sitting in a room with a girl my superiors haven’t vetted personally.” Adam said.

Weiss frowned, but her father rumbled with a laugh. “Adam, I am quite sure the White Fang has vetted my family and every person in my employ twice over. You just don’t like surprises.”

“No.” Blake’s voice was lower than Weiss had expected, clipped and tense. “We don’t.”

“Blake, please.” Adam seemed more entertained than annoyed. “The plans are the same, whether or not Ms. Schnee is present. I’d prefer to have things finalized as quickly as possible.”

“As would I.” Her father cleared his throat. “You’re going to see that the two trains going out tomorrow are derailed?”

Weiss’ eyes widened a degree when Adam nodded. “Once they’ve been stopped, we’ll recover your cargo and move it offshore. As soon as the police astound you with their incompetency and turn up nothing, it will be returned to the refinery minus our cut. Your company will be the latest victim of the White Fang menace, just like your rivals.”

“And we both benefit from a shipment of tax-free Dust.” Her father’s smile showed almost every one of his polished teeth. “Everyone who’s been robbed by you has seen their stocks tumble. They don’t have the liquidity to recover, but we do. They’ll be praying for a buyout.”

“We have two mining crews on standby ready to raise a bit of havoc if they’re not hurting enough to given in. That will cost extra, however.” Adam said.

“You’ll get your share. Just make sure they keep their mouths shut.”

Weiss swallowed past a knot in her throat. Her father had been cold, even cruel, for almost her entire life. She had seen the stress Faunus failure and sabotage had put on his shoulders, understanding when he poured an extra finger of whiskey in his glass or snapped at her to pay attention. It was stifling on most days, enraging on the worst of them, but deep down she had respect for the burden of running the most successful Dust company in Remnant, especially in her mother’s absence. If the Faunus had been on her father’s side this entire time, then what was his excuse?

“Now you understand, don’t you, Weiss?” His voice pulled her from the cold, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s diplomacy that keeps the Schnee Dust Company together.”

She nodded stiffly, opening her mouth to offer some meaningless approval. The words caught in her throat at the sound of a heavy thud. Weiss jerked her head to the right, just in time to see blood blossoming from the center of one of the guard’s foreheads. His jaw dropped limply in shock, but it was the last movement of a dead man.

The next shot made a whisper of noise, sending her scrambling to flatten herself against the floor. It struck the second guard in the ear, bursting out the other side of his skull. Weiss stretched to reach for Myrtenaster as the room erupted into chaos, the precise aim of the sniper suddenly replaced with a hail of bullets. They were coming through the thin walls of the room, shredding through wood and drywall like paper.

Her hand found purchase around Myrtenaster’s hilt and immediately shifted the module to red, shielding her body with a crimson glyph of repulsion as her Aura flared bright. Something liquid was soaking into her shoe, and when Weiss managed to turn on her side, she saw it was her father’s blood. It flowed freely from a shot that had torn into his thigh, another ragged stain darkening the front of his pristine white suit. A knife was gripped weakly in his hand as he spat out a red froth, anger and shock battling for supremacy in his expression.

The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving only the sound of labored breathing. Weiss scrambled onto her feet, only to see that Adam was sprawled out on his side, hissing in pain with both arms wrapped around his ribs. Blake was staggered, blood soaking the bottom of the Faunus’ shirt.

“Blake, you’ve got to get—” Adam wheezed.

“Get my daughter out of here!” Her father roared, visibly teetering on his knees. “If you half-bred mongrels are worth anything, get her…somewhere—”

“I’m fine, Father.” Weiss breathed, trying to figure out where to move, where to step. “I’m fine. We need to get you help.”

Adam kicked outward, shoe barely making contact. “Blake, get her, you fucking idiot—”

The Faunus got to both feet, ears twitching in what Weiss could only translate as an expression of pain. She was about to argue, to scream that she was fine, when all the breath went out of her body. Blake had rushed her like a Boarbatusk, nearly sending her flying over one dark shoulder. Something stopped her short, lungs burning to compensate for the impact, and it wasn’t until she saw the floor moving that she realized being carried by the Faunus like a sack of Dust. Her grip on Myrtenaster threatened to loosen, and it was all she could do to hold on.

Each jolting step made her dizzy, stealing the energy Weiss had for any protest. Her father was going to die on that floor and—another gunshot made her blood turn cold. It wasn’t from Blake’s weapon, which was strapped dangerously close to her face, but from behind them. She felt her gorge rise until Blake made it past the doorway, fresh air easing some of the immediate nausea. Concrete passed by her vision in a blur until they came to a sudden stop.

It was so much, so fast. The second Weiss was set down on unsteady feet, she bent over, bile stinging the inside of her throat. There was blood on her shoes and leggings, her palm so slick with sweat she could barely hold onto Myrtenaster.

“Get in the car.”

Weiss looked up in a daze at Blake, only to realize they had stopped near a black car. There was a chirp, high enough to hurt her ears, from the vehicle as it unlocked. The Faunus looked in as ragged shape as she was, bloodied and winded. She didn’t want to get in the car; she wanted to go back and help her father.

“I don’t-”

“I’m not asking.” Blake growled.

Fighting would only wear her out further, as much as Weiss wanted to see how the Faunus enjoyed the taste of her sword. She yanked the door open and got into the passenger’s seat, feeling her body go nearly boneless as soon as she did. Looking out the windshield into the darkness, a small laugh escaped Weiss’ lips as she saw ice start to climb up the glass, her Aura reacting out of sheer desperation.

Blake was in the driver’s side in seconds, the squeal of tires as they shot down the road making her wince. She could hear sirens in the distance, see flashing lights in the small rear-view mirror, but rather than being comforted, Weiss fought not to squirm. What good would the police be? Her father had been shot while in a meeting with the White Fang, bargaining with criminals for the benefit of the company. He would be arrested the moment they found a pulse. Everything was going to fall apart. She had to get her mind off it, focus on the here and now.

“Why did you tackle me, you brute?” Weiss glared at the Faunus. “I could have run.”

“I didn’t have time to argue with an heiress.” Blake snapped back. “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot on the way out.”

“Where are we going?” Weiss demanded.

“Somewhere safe.”

A sharp, sudden turn jostled her against the door of the car. Weiss cursed, reaching to find the seatbelt while balancing Myrtenaster between her knees. She didn’t want to let go of the rapier while she was in the car with a fugitive.

“You’re Blake Belladonna, aren’t you?” Weiss asked once the side of her head had stopped throbbing.

“Does it really matter?” The Faunus replied.

“Because that means you’re the same Blake who has kidnapped and killed members of the Schnee Dust Company for four years. The same one who has stolen weapon blueprints and enough Dust to set fire to all of Vale.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Except now you know that’s not the whole story, is it?”

“Should you even be driving? You’re bleeding.”

“It clipped my side.” Blake said shortly. “And I doubt you have a license.”

More than ever, Weiss wanted to jump out of the car, but she hadn’t been paying attention to the route Blake was taking. There were no familiar landmarks, nothing she even recognized on the horizon. Her father had only let her shop in certain neighborhoods with an escort, given orders to drivers instead of allowing her to learn herself. Now he could be dead and she had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Do you think my father will…make it?” She asked softly.

Blake’s hands tightened around the wheel. “Can’t really say.”

Anger made her chest ache. “What do you know? Why did someone shoot at us?”

“Because anyone who’s ever touched a speck of Dust has had their arm twisted by your father or your grandfather, courtesy of the White Fang.”

It was strange, having the Faunus’ eyes off her, entirely focused on the road. The words were matter-of-fact, like the world knew the truth and she was just having the blinders removed.

“He told me he hated your kind.” Weiss said, half under her breath.

Blake shrugged. “I’m sure he did. It’s good politics.”

She didn’t have an answer to that. More than an hour passed before the car slowed to a stop outside an apartment building without any lights. It seemed entirely abandoned, but that didn’t keep Blake from pulling into the lot outside the complex. When the engine died, Weiss watched the Faunus let out a shaking breath. Whether it was relief or frustration, she couldn’t say.

“You’re not carrying me inside.” Weiss said.

“Then stay quiet and keep close.”

Navigating flights of stairs in the dark led to a bit more stumbling than Weiss would have liked, but Blake was nearly invisible in front of her, moving with soundless steps. When they reached the top floor, she heard the metal click of an automatic key and bumped into the the Faunus when Blake came to a sudden stop. It made her all too aware of how tall the cat was, nose sore from striking right between the bottom of both shoulder blades.

There was no scathing comment forthcoming, however, so Weiss refrained from offering one of her own as the door opened. Blake tapped a panel, flooding the room with light. Weiss squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, willing her vision to adjust quickly. When they opened again, she found herself in a dreadfully small apartment.

A mattress without a frame took up one corner of the room, although it had sheets and mismatched pillows. The opposite corner was what had to be the kitchen, even if it was only a few scattered appliances and a counter with a sink. One sliding door appeared to be a closet, while the other door actually had a handle. Weiss prayed it was a bathroom, preferably with a shower she could stand under until all of this made sense again.

“This is somewhere safe?” She asked.

“No windows. Power is paid for off the grid. It’s technically condemned so the cops never want to poke their heads inside in case something falls on them.”

When Blake turned to lock the door, Weiss stepped out of the way, only to hear the key clatter to the floor. The Faunus was half hunched over, one arm shakily balanced against the door. Blood dripped from the end of a dark sleeve onto the carpet, slow but constant. There was a groan before Blake reached down, roughly recovering the key before shoving it in the lock and turning it.

“You said the shot clipped you.” Weiss said.

“In a few places.” Blake rasped. “Just get out of my way.”

“You’re the only one who can tell me what is going on.” Weiss took hold of the arm that wasn’t bleeding, tugging it over her shoulder. “And you’re bleeding on the carpet.”

It was an awkward shuffle to the bathroom, but once Blake was sitting on the floor, the Faunus’ injuries were obvious. Under the light, stains had spread entirely across nearly half the jacket, halting only to resume in a dark red splash across Blake’s white shirt. Weiss knew how to heal minor wounds with her Aura, but this looked far beyond her abilities.

She kneeled nonetheless, carefully propping Myrtenaster against the sink. Blake would have to sit up to draw whatever type of sword that was and the Faunus barely looked cogent enough to speak, much less fight. Stripping away the jacket was grotesque work, fresh blood covering her hands while the fabric with congealed stains stuck to itself. The shirt was nearly in pieces by the time she got to it, shredded from the bullets and her removal of the coat.

“Can I?” Weiss gestured to the buttons. Wanted criminal or not, she didn’t want to take someone down to their underclothes without permission.

“You sure seem determined to.” Blake let out a ragged breath. “Go ahead. We’ll see what the damage is.”

The buttons slipped against her blood-slick fingers until Weiss cursed, tearing the shirt all the way open. It came apart in rags, but that seemed to be for the best. Maybe she could clean up the wounds with the remnants.

Underneath, she’d expected something to make her blush, but Weiss was quietly in awe. Lines of black ink began at the hollow of Blake’s throat, beginning so many patterns it was dizzying. She could pick out various shapes - claws and crowns and flowers - but all-together it was a maze of tattoos climbing down the Faunus’ arms and torso. Dark, stiff fabric concealed Blake’s chest, but Weiss’ didn’t let her gaze linger. There wasn’t any blood there and this was already awkward enough.

The worst of it was the Faunus’ shoulder, which nearly had a chunk missing from the roundest part of the muscle. Weiss tried not to wince or feel ill as she looked; the other injury was a graze at the bottom of Blake’s ribs, bloody but minor in comparison.

“You’ve really never seen a White Fang before, have you?” Blake murmured.

“No, I haven’t. Not in person.” Weiss swallowed past another flare of nausea. “Should I just…bandage these?”

Blake nodded. “I’ll live. Just needs to be washed up. Hand me that cloth over there.”

“And you’re going to reach the sink how?” Weiss stood to grab the washcloth and turned on the faucet, soaking it entirely.

Once she’d squeezed most of the water out, she knelt back down and started to wipe the blood away that had dried across Blake’s abdomen. There was a core of rigid muscle underneath the tattoos, rising against her hand every time the Faunus took a breath. Old scars were hidden between the lines of ink too, difficult to focus on between the dark, impenetrable designs. The scraps of shirt weren’t the best sort of thing to use for bandages, but they worked well enough to wind around Blake’s ribs.

The Faunus hissed when her attention shifted to the wounded shoulder, but Weiss didn’t see a cabinet or anything else that might have a bottle of painkillers inside. Blood dripped freely as she tried to wipe away most of the mess, having to finally settle for wrapping it three times over until the stain was no longer visible.

“I think that’s all I can do.” Weiss said, wiping her hands on a piece of the shirt she hadn’t used.

Blake’s lips pursed. “Considering I was expecting you to run me through with that sword, it’s plenty.”

“In the morning, you’re going to tell me everything you’ve ever done for my father and who you think tried to kill us. Then we’re going to find out if he’s alive. Then-”

Tension tightened Weiss’ throat. Then, what? She would wish the Faunus fugitive she just patched up farewell and go visit her father in the hospital? Would she have to arrange a funeral? Would she be arrested? The trajectory of her life had been planned down almost to the day. Her dreams and desires had long since been cast aside. There wasn’t a back-up plan, much less for a conspiracy of this magnitude. Why hadn’t he told her the truth from the very beginning?

“Weiss.” Blake said. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes.”

“Go to sleep then, Weiss. You’ll figure it out in the morning.”

She nodded before hesitating. “There’s only one bed.”

Blake leaned forward just enough to see past the doorway of the bathroom. Weiss kept perfectly still, ignoring the fact that her face was suddenly an inch from the Faunus’ throat. It really was a very small apartment.

“I’ll sleep in here.” Blake finally said. “It’ll save me the trouble of getting up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You either won’t sleep or you’ll pass out and hit your head on the door of the shower.”

The Faunus blinked. “Your confidence is inspiring, Ms. Schnee.”

“Don’t—” Weiss felt a blush flare across her face as she stood up. “Just use my name. And take my hand before I change my mind.”

It took more stilted steps and the weight of Blake against her side to get over to the bed, but she wasn’t surprised when the Faunus simply collapsed against the mattress, head barely touching a pillow. The moment Blake passed out, exhaustion set into every inch of Weiss’ body, adrenaline finally taking its toll. She had to sit to find the right angle to take off her shoes with shaking hands, only managing to strip away her bloodstained leggings by virtue of sheer stubbornness. There was nothing to replace them, but finding the desire to care was more than she was willing to do.

When she finally climbed onto the bed, Blake was stone still. Weiss was about to reach out and feel the rise of the Faunus’ chest, only to hear a low rumbling sound. It was closer to a purr than a snore, thankfully, and proof that her makeshift first aid hadn’t been too late.

Grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of the mattress, Weiss unfolded it and covered herself, although she wasn’t particularly cold. She had never fallen asleep next to anyone before, the tilt of the bed from Blake’s body weight on one side just as strange as the heat seeming to emanate from the Faunus.

It was just a temporary inconvenience. Everything would be overcome if she took the time to plan. If she had survived this, if Blake had survived, then surely her father would too. Weiss would have the truth from him, from everyone. Then her life would be on its path again.

The world would right itself, or she could make it.


	2. Forte

_Forte: Literally “strong”. This is the half of the blade closer to the swordsman’s hand.  It is the defensive part of the sword with which virtually all successful parries are executed._

—-

Everything was too warm. Weiss clawed at the barrier surrounding her, but her hands stuck to it, suddenly tangled and trapped. She couldn’t breathe. No matter where she shifted or kicked, something was tightening around her legs, pulling taut against her face. A tearing sound and the whisper of cool air jumbled together until her eyes finally snapped open, realizing the quick gasps of panic were her own.

Both hands were embedded in the blanket like claws, rigid out of fear. The blood from the night before had become rust-colored stains, sticking to her skin and cheap cotton alike. In her sleep, she had rolled over into the trench left by Blake’s body on the other side of the bed, the echo of heat maddening when she was still mostly dressed and wrapped in this damned blanket. It had felt like falling through a fever dream.

She certainly hadn’t lost her composure with someone else in the room.

Said someone was standing behind the kitchen counter, frowning at the coffee machine. If Blake had noticed her lapse, the Faunus was wise enough to pretend otherwise. How long she had slept was a mystery, although it had apparently been long enough to change out the shoulder dressing. The scraps of shirt were gone, replaced with gauze and tape. That wouldn’t have been odd in of itself if the bloody slice across Blake’s ribs wasn’t gone, replaced by a thin white line that could be nothing but a scar.

Weiss’ stare didn’t go unnoticed for long. Blake glanced her way after retrieving a cup from the cabinet, brow knit. Without the tight confines of a braid, the Faunus’ hair was wild, flowing down both shoulders with the fullness of a mane.

“There was a first aid kit down in the car.” Weiss watched as two sugar packets were torn open by polished white teeth. Some part of her had expected them to be sharper than a human’s. “I found something to plug the drain in the shower, so my clothes are soaking. Might want to do the same with yours.”

She hadn’t considered the full implication of the words until Blake stepped out from behind the counter without any trousers. There was underwear, thankfully, but the surreal fact that she was currently locked in a room with a nearly-naked Faunus was making Weiss wonder if she had never woken up. Perhaps Blake had smothered her with a pillow in her sleep and this was some sort of ironic purgatory. Then again, she didn’t want to know what it said about her subconscious if it had helpfully filled in the rest of Blake’s tattoos, a complicated design of vines and chains that entwined and disappeared underneath dark briefs. Only the Faunus’ calves and feet - not paws, she noted - were untouched by ink, nothing but smooth skin and taut muscle.

“The leggings are silk.” Weiss said out loud. “I don’t think there’s much to be done for them.”

“Mm.” Blake blew a coil of steam from the top of the coffee cup. “That’s why Adam stopped wearing silk ties. But you still might want to wash your hands.”

Certainly not a dream, then. Dried blood under her nails wasn’t a sensation her mind could replicate from past experience. Weiss slipped from the bed, frowning at the rasp of worn carpet against the soles of her feet. It would be easier to piece things together if those amber eyes weren’t locked onto her every move.

The bathroom itself didn’t have a lock, but she propped Myrtenaster’s hilt underneath the handle so it wouldn’t open as easily. Keeping her eyes averted from the mirror, Weiss turned the sink handle all the way to the left, waiting for the water to warm to just shy of scalding before she put her hands beneath it. The heat prickled her skin, but the blood came off in flakes and dark rivulets as she scrubbed furiously, refusing to stop until she realized the flushed pink of her palms was a reaction from the water and not a permanent stain.

Her makeup was, without question, a disaster. She had eyeliner and powder in her hip bag, perhaps half a tube of concealer, enough to redraw the lines of the mask from the night before. The only washcloth in the room was stiff with Blake’s blood, but she made do with the other side of it, removing the remnants of gloss and eyeshadow until there was nothing but a bare canvas again.

Weiss took a breath before looking directly in the mirror. Fatigue was painted under her eyes in dark circles, hair sticking out every which way from her ponytail. A few dark red flecks had dried under the curve of her jaw, although whether it was Blake’s or her father’s, she couldn’t be sure. She soaked the washcloth until the water ran cleanly through it and wiped the last bit of blood away.

Her bag was crushed in an odd shape from sleeping on it, but everything inside seemed to be intact. Two eyeliner pencils, one compact, the concealer and—her scroll. Weiss pressed the button on the side to turn the device on, nearly overcome with relief when the screen flickered to life. It only had about half charge left, but that was more than enough to check her messages.

No matter how many times she refreshed the mail app, however, there was nothing new. The last text was from one of her tutors two days ago, a chastising note reminding her that she still had a paper to write on new economic theories.  _It will serve you much better than swordplay._

Weiss’ jaw tensed as she turned off the screen. Her father had been shot right in front of her and there wasn’t a single message? Had no one else in the company noticed his absence or hers? She couldn’t walk twenty feet at home without bumping into a maid or guard, and if a day went by when the media wasn’t trying to snap pictures through their front windows, she had yet to see it. There should have been something from her father saying he was alright, something from his doctor or lawyer if he wasn’t. How could there be nothing?

She set the scroll down on the counter, harder than she meant to. If no one was going to seek her out, then she’d find them instead. Blake had to know more about this, being the criminal element in the equation. How honest the Faunus would be with her, Weiss couldn’t gauge, but at least Blake seemed to take her father’s concerns about her safety seriously. If the White Fang really were working for the company, then she could expect some degree of loyalty, couldn’t she?

The powder and concealer was easy enough, but the third time the eyeliner pencil pricked her eye, Weiss let out a hiss of frustration. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t know what time it was, and as such, how long it had been since she ate. Conceding a temporary defeat, she dropped the makeup back into her bag and turned her scroll on again. The writing application was crude in her opinion - it didn’t have a shortcut for footnotes - but it would serve for making a list.

Food was a primary concern, since she didn’t expect takeout was often delivered to safehouses. The water seemed good enough to drink, even if the bit she’d gotten in her mouth had a metallic aftertaste. Weiss marked that as  _supplies_  on her scroll, skipping to a new line. A shower and the salvaging the bloodied state of her shoes would follow, designated under  _hygiene_. When that was settled, she could move onto  _information_  and figure out the next step from there. It was a simplistic series of events, but just having it written down eased some of the tension in her shoulders. A proper plan was the key to success.

After taking a moment to fix her ponytail, Weiss emerged from the bathroom, scroll and Myrtenaster in hand. Blake, by some mercy, was dressed again, the source of the clothes a curiosity until she saw the open closet door. The black dress shirt was open and draped a bit loosely around the Faunus’ shoulders, while the trousers looked like they were about to burst at the seams, but it was better than nothing.

“Did you want some—” Blake’s brow knit. “Is that a scroll?”

Weiss scoffed. “What does it look like?”

It was the second time in as many days that the Faunus had come towards her in a dark blur, but the last thing Weiss expected was the scroll to be struck from her hand. Blake seized her other wrist, the one holding Myrtenaster, squeezing tight enough that her grip loosened, the rapier clattering to the floor.

“Did your father raise you in a tower somewhere?” The snarl that rumbled in Blake’s chest was deep as a Grimm’s. “Those can be traced!”

“Let go of me!” Weiss tried to pull free, but Blake’s strength was formidable, inhuman. She clenched her other hand into a fist, ready to drive a blow into the Faunus’ stomach, but the punch was caught in midair, the impact radiating back up her arm like she’d struck a stone wall.

“You are ignorant of  _everything_.” Blake snapped. “If anyone finds us here, we are dead, plain and simple.”

“I don’t even know where  _here_  is.” Weiss continued to strain against the Faunus’ grip, refusing to surrender so easily. “You expect me to sit and do nothing after someone tried to kill me? After someone shot my father in cold blood?”

“I expect you to have some common sense, which I suppose was asking far too much for a child.”

When Blake shoved her away, Weiss staggered, but the first thing she reached for was Myrtenaster, falling into a defensive stance. Pain gave rise to adrenaline as she jabbed the blade at the Faunus’ throat, stopping just short of piercing the skin. If any move was made to draw a weapon in turn, a quick slash would put an end to that.

“A child?” Weiss offered half a smile. “How old are you, Blake Belladonna? None of the wanted posters have ever said.”

“Older.” Loathing put a spark into that bright, feral gaze. “Old enough to have survived more than you could ever know.”

Weiss’ eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

Blake leaned forward until the tip of Myrtenaster was pressed against bare flesh, just above where the tattoos began. Weiss swallowed roughly, but kept her arm perfectly still.

“Go ahead, slit my throat.” A subtle vibration ran up the blade as the Faunus spoke. “Surely you’ve killed someone before.”

Of course she hadn’t. In years of training, her father had been her only live opponent, the rest of her practices delegated to animated Dust golems that could survive being decapitated and cut limb from limb. No matter how much she cajoled or politely pleaded, there were no Ursi or Nevermore in her future, even as temporary targets. Myrtenaster was forged for self-defense, not to be used as a common tool of bloodshed.

“You will never touch me again without my permission.” Weiss felt an ache beginning to creep up her arm, threatening to make the blade jerk if she didn’t relax. “Do you understand?”

“Is that all you want?” Blake asked, the initial flare of anger twisted into mockery. “Because this is the last time you’ll catch me by surprise.”

Her wrist was stiff now, a twinge making its way up from her thumb. “You’ll tell me everything the White Fang has done for my father. For my grandfather. Then you’re going to take me home. I don’t care if the police take your mangy hide into custody or shoot you on sight.”

“Until Adam contacts me, your head is worth a lot more than mine. The men who attacked you won’t stop until they’re made to.”

“Who were they?” Weiss demanded.

“Someone who knew your father’s schedule. Someone who knew how many guards would be with him and where. Your family isn’t short on enemies.” Blake said.

She was finally forced to lower Myrtenaster, not wanting to risk dropping the sword again or running the Faunus through—yet.

“Then take me home. The Schnee manor has more defenses than this rathole ever could. There are dozens of guards on retainer and enough Dust to hold off an army.”

“You’re not listening to me.” A drop of blood rose from Blake’s skin, the color of a ruby. Despite her best efforts, the pressure had been just enough. “The most likely case is that it was someone from your company that tried to have you killed.”

“That’s…impossible.” Weiss heard the disbelief in her voice even as she said the words. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“Not a one?” Blake asked, clearly amused. “I’m going to go smoke.”

Weiss wasn’t sure what offended her more; the fact that the Faunus had suggested she was oblivious or that the threat she presented was dismissed out of hand. She stayed frozen in place as Blake disappeared out of the door of the apartment, a blood-stained pack of cigarettes clutched in the same fingers that had left a rising ring of bruises around her wrist.

—-

The symbol for a murder on behalf of the White Fang was a rose.

It began with the stem and bud, gaining a petal for each kill. Faunus artists knew how to blend the lines of old and new ink together, creating the natural intricacy of the flower over time. There were humans who mocked the design as fragile, but they were the same species that disrespected wilderness and the proper order of things.

Blake’s hand tightened around the pack of cigarettes. Cellophane and cardboard was crushed, the sharp smell of tobacco cutting through the air. What was the difference between five petals and six, if someone glanced quickly enough? What did it matter as long as it never, ever had to happen again?

No one left the family. The Belladonna line had a single member left to its name, but the White Fang was for life. It was engraved in blood and black lines, in the wounded wolf’s head displayed across the back of every soldier, worn like a flag of defiance. The other tattoos - vines for nature’s inherent freedom, chains for the burden every Faunus shared, the twisted maze of bestial imagery and authority - were all subordinate to that first law. Traitors died by the family’s hand, no matter where they went or how long they ran.

 _Traitor_  had seemed like a simple word once. It was the mark of a coward or someone who had sold out secrets for money, someone who drew a blade against a brother or sister without cause. Their sentences were identical, their graves unmarked.

 _Traitor_  didn’t hold enough syllables for the truth. It didn’t explain why the average Faunus barely had enough to eat while Adam kept a closet full of designer suits or why the White Fang’s coffers swelled from protection money as Dust miners died with elements crystallizing in their lungs. Why would Schnee, so like his father, care about safety protocols when he knew their teeth were in every throat, ready to tear it out at any hint of rebellion? The workers were told the White Fang would free them from tyranny one day, and they believed.

Blake had believed. The equation was simple when it was passed from parent to child, when revenge was whispered in the ears of an orphan. Theft was a lark, sabotage a warm-up, the spray of blood a sign of punishment rightfully delivered. Gambol Shroud had been forged as a second nature, blade and barrel replacing the claws and teeth a beast was meant to have. It spilled blood indiscriminately, human and Faunus alike.

Five lives was the price of freedom. Four guards, faceless and nameless, and the head of the Schnee Dust Company. There wasn’t a Faunus alive who didn’t despise the man and everything he stood for. The workers underneath his thumb suffered from toil and poverty while the White Fang saw him as the last barrier before power changed hands. Police and politicians alike would crumble in the face of fuel riots across Vale, and the family had enough stock to last for years of war.

Adam had swallowed the plan whole, seeing his chance to become a part of history. It was never going to make it higher up the chain, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to take the credit. Blake would become a ghost, a casualty of Schnee malice. The men hired to do the job were from the company, after all, willing to kill their own boss for the false promise of a place in the aftermath. Adam would spit on the humans who struck down the Shadow of the White Fang, demanding that vengeance was the only option. Miners would strike and the city would burn, the burden of a massive corporate empire falling like a stone onto a girl who was only seventeen. The resistance would be minimal, the toll reckoned fair in the end.

Weiss. Blake had been conscious of little more than the name for years. Schnee kept his daughter behind lock and key, only allowing her to emerge for parties and anniversaries. Killing Weiss had been on the lips of nearly every White Fang at one point or another, seeing it as a way to cripple her father. Blake knew better. No man who paraded their child like a trophy, like a polished doll, would break in the face of its loss. There would be company-mandated mourning, moments of silence, but eventually the alliance would shatter. Schnee would suspect them first as the source of the assassin - he was greedy, not stupid - and there was no arguing with a bruised ego.

The girl shouldn’t have been there. Blake threw the mangled cigarettes over the railing, not caring where they fell. Weiss, who looked like she was forged out of glass and silver, but with hands quick to wield steel, prickling with thorns not yet cut. Schnee may have raised his daughter in captivity, but Blake sensed the blood boiling under the heiress’ skin, the refusal to be docile and contrite. It would have been laudable, if Weiss hadn’t been the girl meant to take the fall. The company was supposed to collapse atop those slender shoulders, leaving a pale throat ripe for the cutting when the dust settled.

The blinking message on Blake’s scroll had been the same for hours. Adam’s distinct signature was at the bottom, and there was no reason to doubt its veracity.

_Change of plans. Schnee Sr. is in a coma. Kill the girl and you’re free. I’ll take care of the rest._

‘Free’ wasn’t a word that served any better than ‘traitor’. Free to escape Vale with nothing more than a change of clothes and Gambol Shroud, free to run somewhere so far away that White Fang tattoos would be a point of curiosity instead of the sign of a criminal. Blake had halfway considered going wild in one of the massive forests at the edge of the world, living off the land like a Grimm. It would be better than killing another person again, better than watching the Faunus suffer in silence under the aegis of the White Fang and humanity’s prejudice.

One more death. Weiss was so small, it would take a single hand to snap her neck. There would be no struggle, no pain. The girl would die without knowing the full horror of what her father had done, the bliss of confusion and ignorance far better than the truth.

But it wasn’t fair. Weiss was the one who had screamed for someone to save her father, who had cleaned up the wounds of a Faunus with barely a moment’s hesitation. The heiress’ only crimes were being born with the Schnee name, being tutored behind one-way glass where she couldn’t see the rest of the world. Condemning Weiss for the blood running in those fragile veins would make Blake the same monster as the girl’s father, who was somehow still breathing, clinging to life out of spite.

Blake let out a slow breath before letting the scroll fall to the same fate as the cigarettes. From this height, the screen immediately cracked, arcs of Dust energy flickering around it like angry Rapier Wasps.

If Weiss had any last wishes, they would be granted. Nothing would balance the scales, but Blake knew that enough kindness could sometimes feel like peace.

 

—-

 

It was useless. No matter how many times Weiss replaced the batteries of her scroll or tried a factory restart, the screen would do little more than glow, refusing to load a single application. There was a long fracture in the glass, a testament to Blake’s alarming strength, but she had taken apart her first scroll at the age of four. There was no reason that this couldn’t be repaired.

The Faunus returned from outside as if summoned, although strangely absent the smell of smoke. Her father had been - was - partial to cigars and it had always clung to his jacket, set deeper than the scent of whiskey or cologne. Blake’s expression was unreadable, but that was an improvement over anger.

Her own upset had cooled fairly quickly in the Faunus’ absence. As aggravating as it was to have the scroll simply struck from her hand, the fact that the device could be traced to their location hadn’t occurred to her. Criminal or not, Blake seemed experienced with such matters, and she couldn’t afford to dismiss that competence without a second thought.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Weiss was surprised by the offer, but she didn’t want to let it show. That was the first item on her list, after all. “Yes, if there’s anything here.”

“Nothing to write home to your live-in chef about.” Blake said wryly, but went back behind the kitchen counter to search in the cabinets. “Most of it heats up in a plastic bowl.”

It was better than nothing — probably. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

There wasn’t a laugh in response, or even a glare. Weiss watched as Blake pulled out two containers wrapped in plastic before stripping the packaging away with a practiced hand. Something had changed in the Faunus’ demeanor, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source nor what the exact difference was.

Without a table or a single chair, Weiss realized that they had nowhere to sit but the bed. Standing at the counter to eat seemed outstandingly awkward. After putting the damaged scroll back into her bag, she bunched up the blanket she’d used, looking for somewhere to put it. The garbage can by the door was small, but better there than leaving the blood-spattered blanket on otherwise clean sheets. She folded it several times over, surprised to see the remnants of Blake’s shirt at the bottom of the can when she approached.

When she sat back down, Blake was quick to follow, steam billowing from both bowls. Weiss took the one that was offered as well as the disposable fork; apparently safehouses didn’t come equipped with proper silverware either. Setting her reservations aside, Weiss took a careful sample from the tangle of noodles and broth, surprised at the subtle kick of spice when she swallowed. Far from the flavorless cardboard she’d been expecting from something that only took a few minutes to cook.

Blake was ravenous but neat. She watched the Faunus take bite after massive bite, somehow keeping the broth from splashing everywhere. That too was swallowed in one long gulp once the noodles were gone, the bowl practically licked clean.

“You wanted to know about your father.” Blake said.

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Weiss nodded, wondering if the colorful fragments at the bottom of the bowl were supposed to be vegetables.

“Your family’s made money from Dust for generations, but keeping a monopoly over it can be hard when anyone can buy land and set up a mine. His father, your grandfather, used Faunus labor because we worked for nothing more than room and board.”

There was no mistaking the bitterness in the Faunus’ voice and it made Weiss’ next bite difficult to swallow, sticking like glue to the inside of her throat. She gulped past the hard knot and coughed politely, not letting her eyes leave Blake. If it was true, no matter what that truth may be, Weiss wanted to face it head-on.

“The White Fang was just a mining guild then, a collective of Faunus who tried to keep each other safe. Eventually enough of them got angry at the deaths from raw Dust, about rations arriving late. They started to steal from outgoing shipments, just enough to sell to humans and pay for necessities.” Blake’s lips pursed. “Until we figured out how to make weapons of our own. Bombs, to be more specific.”

Weiss’ eyes widened a little. Dust already had explosive properties, no matter the element it contained. When packed into a bullet or barrel, the damage was inherently devastating. Wiring Dust to explode on purpose was asking for a chasm to be torn into the earth, deeper than any mine.

“The inside of your grandfather’s largest mine was filled with bombs, tucked behind every support and outside every exit. It took months of planning, but there no one from the company ever came to check and see if the workers were safe, if the mines were stable. So when it was done, the leader of the White Fang sent a message to the foreman, telling him that the Schnee family would lose everything if they didn’t free every Faunus in their employ.”

Weiss had only faint memories of her grandfather. His portrait hung in her father’s office, illustrating a man with the barrel chest of an Ursi and a snow-white beard that was never cut. He had carried her as if she weighed nothing at her mother’s funeral, letting her hide in pale curls when Father gave the eulogy. His funeral, only a few years later, had been a procession through the streets of Vale, and Weiss hadn’t been allowed to get out of the family car to see the crowd that gathered.

“What did he do?” She asked softly.

“Your grandfather was a smart man. He was rich, but there were plenty of rich men taking advantage of the Dust rush. The success he had wouldn’t last long in the face of that much competition. So he came in person and asked what it would take for the White Fang to move those bombs to every other mine in Vale.”

Blake’s smile was razor sharp. “Don’t underestimate how quickly a revolution can fall to greed. Freedom for the Faunus became freedom for the White Fang alone. It became money and weapons. Why would we sabotage your grandfather when we could be paid by him to destroy a dozen other companies, to taste humanity fearing us?”

No matter where she looked in the Faunus’ expression, searching for a twitch, those amber eyes averting in the sign of a lie, there was nothing to be found. Blake sounded more disappointed in the White Fang’s failure to rise up than the fact that her family had bought them out. Blake Belladonna, the implacable shadow who had played no small part in her father’s rage, if the stories from her childhood were to be believed.

“Why are you with them?” Weiss asked, brow knit. “The money?”

“My parents were some of their first recruits. They still believed that the White Fang would free the Faunus once we had enough power. It just was a matter of time.” Blake’s jaw tensed. “They were both killed in a riot when a guild refused to pay protection money. The miners saw them as traitors, and your father’s men didn’t stop to ask if any of the Faunus they were shooting at happened to work for the White Fang. I can’t even tell you which side dealt the final blow.”

“I—” Weiss began, but the words died on her lips.

“You didn’t know.” Blake shrugged. “But I was raised by the rest of the White Fang. They made me into what you see today.”

Weiss had no idea what she saw. Painting Blake as a killer with one broad stroke would have been easy. Her father’s voice echoed in the back of her thoughts -  _rebels mongrels murderers_  - but he had benefited from every drop of blood the White Fang had spilled. What would she have done if he told her the only way to save the company was to slit someone’s throat?

“My uncle disappeared when I was twelve.” Weiss said softly. “My father told me that the White Fang had kidnapped him and killed him when a ransom wasn’t paid. What actually happened?”

The Faunus’ head tilted, a subconscious twitch that could only be surprise. “He had threatened to go to the police when your father wouldn’t give him half the stake in the company. Your uncle should have settled for five percent.”

“You didn’t—” Weiss didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Blake took a moment to catch on before frowning. “No, I didn’t kill him. I heard. I saw the body.”

Bile rose in Weiss’ throat. Protecting the company had always come first. It was intertwined with family, the name and power behind it locked in the blood. Outsiders were crushed underfoot, competition weakened from within until they bent their knee. Father had said it a hundred times in a hundred different ways, drilling it into her head until she looked at every foreign board member and visiting businessmen with disgust. They were weak. Her family was strong.

What did it mean then, if her father would throw his own brother to the wolves, knowing they would revel in the taste of Schnee blood?

“You’re a liar.” Weiss spat.

Blake blinked, undeterred. “You know I’m not.”

“You’re a liar!” She screamed, roughly shoving the Faunus down against the mattress, heedless of the fact that she’d knocked her food to the floor.

The struggle she was waiting for never came. Even when she straddled Blake’s hips, wrapped her hands around that pale throat, the Faunus simply looked at her, that amber gaze boring into her skin, into the bone. Weiss wanted to squeeze tight, choke Blake until she heard the truth, but the body beneath her was limp, serene.

“Take it back.” Weiss whispered.

“I can’t.”

Blake’s pulse was trapped beneath her fingers, fluttering like a bird in a cage. “Take it back!”

“There’s nothing I can do.” The Faunus growled, teeth grit.

“I just wanted to be a huntress.” Tears, hot and humiliating, started to form at the corner of Weiss’ eyes. “I did everything else he asked. Every tutor, every lesson. The only thing I ever wanted was to make a difference. The warriors that killed Grimm were good people, they were  _heroes_. The world smiled on them.”

Trying not to cry made her choke, but she refused to pull her hands away to wipe the tears out of sight. “I couldn’t beat him in a duel to prove my worth, so he cut my face. Told me I’d die in minutes if I tried something so foolish. The scar was my reminder. I trusted him, I knew he wanted me to be safe.”

Blake stayed silent, which burned more than any rebuke. She wanted the Faunus to do something to provoke her, to earn the rage that was filling her blood with liquid fire. Perhaps killing someone would be enough to make her part of the legacy.

“I told myself I’d be the perfect heir. I straightened my shoulders and set that old dream aside.” Weiss could feel herself trembling, pain piercing her heart like a lance. The words were coming faster, too quick to swallow. “But nothing changed. He treated me just the same, kept me away from everyone else. He’s probably dead and I didn’t go back to save him. I can’t be…alone. I can’t—”

Weiss collapsed against the Faunus’ chest, fingers finally loosening their grasp. Sobs wracked her body, leaving her throat raw with every breath. It wasn’t fair. She had sacrificed everything she wanted and it hadn’t made an ounce of difference.

Blake’s arms wrapped around her, strength held at bay for the sake of the embrace. Weiss cursed herself for welcoming it, for clinging to the contact like a lifeline. The Faunus had saved her, but for what reason? Her tears left a wet trail down dark ink as she buried her face into the curve of Blake’s shoulder, helpless to stop each wave of gasps and sobs.

“You’re not alone.” Warm breath played across the top of Weiss’ hair. “Just breathe.”

“I’m not enough.” It was whispered, but to her ears, it may as well have been a scream.

Fingers were tilting her head up, forcing her to see past the curtain of dark hair that spilled across Blake’s shoulders. Weiss looked for any sign of pity in those bright eyes, waiting for the Faunus to judge and find her wanting. Instead she saw pain mirrored back, trapped like an insect in amber.

One of them leaned forward. Weiss wasn’t sure which, only that the Faunus’ mouth against hers was warm and hungry.


	3. Presence

_Presence (in presence, out of presence): A sword is said to be in presence when its point is directed anywhere within the outline of the opponent’s body. Often, the two expressions “in line” and “in presence” are used almost interchangeably._

General blood/violence warning.

—-

It wasn’t Weiss’ first kiss.

That had come from a maid her father had promptly fired, despite its chaste intent. Someone saw them and reported the incident for a scrap of goodwill, as if the bowing and brown-nosing would be remembered for more than a moment. It taught Weiss to close curtains and lock doors, that gloss and perfume could leave subtle signs behind.

The second was from a tutor over a year later, a woman with black hair and eyes like molten gold. She learned Dust theory with crimson nails resting against her shoulder, the same slender fingers occasionally reaching back to toy with her hair. It was named  _ivory_  and  _silk_  and  _snowfall_  by those dark lips until Weiss blushed, stammering about focusing on her studies. The dalliance - and that’s all she could call it, wanting more and settling for less - had been brief, although the fire of rebellion burned under her skin for months after Ms. Fall’s services were no longer needed.

None of that compared to Blake, who was heat and teeth and solid presence. Kissing was like an electric shock with another body beneath hers, consuming all the breath in her lungs until they were forced to break apart. Weiss’ fingers went to her lip, coming back stained with blood. Her entire life was becoming about the vital fluid when it had been bloodless for so long, cold and distant from her own flesh.

The Faunus looked up at her, ragged breaths making that pale throat rise, the same one she’d nearly slashed open with Myrtenaster just an hour before. Weiss took a moment to consider if she had gone utterly insane, although the kiss had roughly jolted her out of crying. She wiped her eyes before glancing at her hand, the red stain embedded in the whorls and loops of her fingertips. A curious lick proved it tasted like iron and salt, real as the rest of this. Blake had gone perfectly still, muscled frame taut with tension.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in the Faunus’ chest, quickly building to full-blown laughter. Weiss couldn’t imagine what in this moment was worth a laugh, the possibilities that came to mind - the kiss, her tears - sending a flush of embarrassment through her entire body, anger coiling and twisting like a serpent in her gut.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Weiss snapped.

“Mm.” Blake’s eyes closed, mirth draining away from the Faunus’ face. “No. Half a million Lien for my bounty would give you enough to run off somewhere and play huntress. You could be like one of those colorful sisters they put on the recruitment posters.”

Weiss’ jaw tensed, becoming all too aware of the fact that their bodies were still pressed together, muscular thighs locked between her knees. There was no graceful way to withdraw, but she shifted back nonetheless, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Her lower lip was starting to sting.

“Does it seem like a joke to you?” Blake sat up in one fluid movement, eyes snapping open. “You’re getting another shot and you’re pissing it away.”

“Does the White Fang look kindly on shirking familial responsibility?” Weiss hissed. “I can’t just leave.”

“It’s simple. Pick up your sword and start here.” Blake’s fingers slowly drew a line across both collarbones. The Faunus’ mouth quirked in a smile. “It’ll give you a headstart on killing monsters.”

“Why are you mocking me?” Weiss felt her voice hit another octave, the syllables high in her throat. “Fine, I’m a child. I thought being a huntress might help me be a good person. That doesn’t mean I have to listen to a Faunus gangster with more ink than intellect telling me my dreams were worth nothing.”

The distance between them was closed in an instant, Blake’s face just inches from hers. When that dark, mocking lilt became a whisper, Weiss had to keep herself from shivering. “I’m telling you to kill me so you can have your dream.”

“Get out of my face.” Ice shot through the words, her teeth bared. “You sound like a lunatic.”

“What will it take?” Blake growled, volume quickly climbing. “Should I hit you so it feels like self-defense?”

Weiss knew she shouldn’t have been provoked so easily. She had been chastised for having a temper her entire life, heard the rumors on the lips of servants and guards about how the little snow queen was really hot-headed and spoiled, but Blake was yelling right in her face, speaking nonsense like a prophet on a street corner.

“Touch me again and you’ll regret it.” The last threads of her patience were bound to keeping her voice low and even.

Blake moved so fast, Weiss nearly saw double. One hand tightly locked around her jaw, forcing her chin up so she had to look directly into the Faunus’ eyes. Amber, viscous and cold all at once, threatening to trap her again.

“You’ve spent so long in your cage you think your wings have been clipped.” Blake’s purr didn’t warm her blood; the bitterness, the abject loathing in the bestial sound made Weiss tremble. “If you want to be free, that’s the price. You can run to your father’s hospital bed afterwards and pray he doesn’t wake up and lock you back inside again.”

“Hospital—” Shock blunted the edge of her anger, the instinct to claw the Faunus’ hand away from her face. “He’s alive?”

“In a coma.” Blake said through grit teeth. “Because the men I hired can’t shoot straight.”

The first punch Weiss threw broke the Faunus’ nose. The snap of bone against cartilage was stomach-turning, unfamiliar, but that didn’t stop her from the next strike or the hail of blows that followed. Father had eschewed lessons on hand-to-hand combat, saying it was meant for drunken brawlers and unfortunate souls who couldn’t afford a weapon, but she knew the basics.  _Don’t tuck in your thumb, Weiss, hit with the proper knuckles._

Myrtenaster was just a few feet away, nearly within reach, but she didn’t want to kill Blake. She wanted it to hurt. She wanted to know  _why_. The Faunus’ arms had gone limp after the third punch, threads of blood sluggishly trailing from a split lip; it fell like tears from the edge of one eye, the brow above cut open and threatening to swell.

“Why? Why did you do all of this?” Weiss shouted.

Blake’s Aura was frighteningly powerful, the damage she had done beginning to seal right before her eyes. In contrast, her hands were nearly numb from the repeated impact, the Faunus’ blood mixing interchangeably with her own.

“Why were you there?” Blake made a gagging sound, teeth stained crimson. “Killing your father was my way out, but no. He had to make fools out of all of us.”

Answers. Breaking Blake’s jaw wouldn’t give her answers. Weiss couldn’t find the will to unclench her fists, but she could focus. “Your way out of what?”

“The White Fang.” Weiss nearly lashed out when the Faunus’ hand moved, but it trailed down tattoos and fabric instead, not daring to go her way. Blake’s fingers stopped at a set of dark lines resembling claw marks, like a Grimm had tried to tear the Faunus’ ribcage open. “See these? The scar there?”

Weiss nodded sharply. The second tattoo was surrounded by jagged scar tissue, gone pale and bloodless with age.

“First five years of service. I was thirteen when they gave me my first, fourteen when I tried to run and they cut the second out of my skin. The next time, they’d take my head.” Blake’s laugh was weak, raw. “No one leaves. But I promised Adam the perfect bait, everything he ever wanted. The Schnee dynasty broken without a trace of blood on his hands.”

“My father.” Weiss couldn’t stop herself from shaking. “And me.”

“You weren’t a factor until you became a witness.” Blake’s eyes averted, focusing on the wall. “Plans changed.”

Weiss spared a pointed glance towards Myrtenaster. “You’ve had a hundred chances to kill me. Was this some sort of sick game, seeing how far you could lead me along before you slit my throat?”

“I’m not killing anyone else.” Blake hissed. “I promised myself that.”

It took a moment for the pieces to fall together. The Faunus’ haphazard show of sympathy followed by the verbal knives to her back, the refusal to fight even when Weiss lashed out. Goading every step of the way until she snapped, rage sweeping away common sense. She had spent years wrapping her fingers around her father’s heartstrings and pulling, learning what earned both his ire and attention. Compared to Blake’s crude fumblings, she was a virtuoso when it came to luring in plain sight. It would have been sad if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“You wanted me to kill you so you didn’t have to run. So you wouldn’t be a coward.” Weiss murmured. “What nobility, entrusting your executioner’s axe to a girl so you could play the marytr.”

Blake’s jaw tensed, the muscle there jutting like a diamond’s edge. Weiss watched as the Faunus’ expression collapsed into shame, chin tilted up, throat exposed like a final plea to finish things. Blood had made its dark path downward, drops of it congealing on the roses tattooed across Blake’s chest. Weiss wouldn’t be played for a fool twice.

“If this is all the Shadow of the White Fang can do, I have nothing to fear.” Weiss stood up, looking down at her hands. Perhaps some gloves were in order for her ensemble, if everyone was determined to drag her into such a mess.

“You’ll be dead the moment Adam finds you.” Blake said.

Weiss bristled. “Is that an offer for help or are you just going to lay there while I leave?”

The Faunus finally turned to look at her, disbelief plain. “Help?”

“If you want to die, then the least you could do is stand in front of a few bullets while I get to my father’s computer.” Weiss frowned at the state of her shoes before stepping into them, but cleaning them wasn’t particularly a priority now. “They’ll know you failed them the moment they see me alive. You might as well earn it.”

Blake winced, but whether it was from the Faunus’ nose aligning back into place or the words, she wasn’t sure. “What’s on your father’s computer?”

“Proof. About whether your story and the Faunus’ supposed suffering is true. He’s never let me go to the mines, but Father keeps records on everything from grammatical errors in reports to this season’s tie colors. I’m sure whether or not he nearly enslaves his labor is somewhere in there, mm?”

“Why do you even care?” Blake scoffed. “It’s how it’s always been.”

Weiss’ eyes narrowed. “And if I live to find that out, Blake Belladonna, I might change it. I have no intention of letting my family be remembered as common criminals who preyed on the weak. If my father isn’t as enlightened…then I hope he’ll wake up with a clearer head.”

There was a long pause, nothing but silence as Weiss finished donning her shoes and took Myrtenaster in hand. If Blake wasn’t going to cooperate, she was going to have to find some other method of transport. Perhaps there was a taxi driver out there that wanted his salary doubled for life.

“You’re not kidding.” The Faunus muttered.

“Unlike the farce you’ve just tried to make of my life, no, I’m not kidding.” Weiss said. “Or you can simply run away. I certainly won’t waste any effort chasing after you.”

The kiss lingered in the back of her mind, wondering what the true intention behind it had been. Had Blake pitied her in that vulnerable moment, thought she would take some consolation from being touched? Weiss squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, willing the conundrum away. The Faunus’ motive didn’t matter, not now.

There was a shift behind her and she instinctively put her thumb against Myrtenaster’s chamber, ready to summon a glyph and leave Blake halfway embedded in the nearest wall.

“I’ll drive you.” There was a distinctive slide of silk as Gambol Shroud’s ribbon wrapped around the Faunus’ wrist. “I can’t say how far we’ll get.”


	4. Finimento

_Finimento: The part of the sword that protects the hand. The role of the hilt is defensive. Makes ample use of the hilt to parry thrusts, and its mass makes for excellent protection of such vulnerable parts as the swordsman’s head._

General blood/violence warning is still in place.

—-

Even after cleaning up, Blake’s brow was swelling with a blue-tinged bruise. Weiss hoped it wouldn’t draw any untoward attention, although her concerns were quickly overrun by the fact that the Faunus seemed determined to stay at least thirty miles per hour over the speed limit, heedless of hairpin turns and sinuous back roads. Someone had to have seen them, multiple someones, but the apathy of police and passerby alike played to their advantage for now. She just wondered how much they were used to overlooking.

“Do you have some sort of plan or am I supposed to jump in front of a turret as soon as I drop you off?” Blake asked.

There was bitterness in the Faunus’ voice, but no real reluctance. It was the dire mix of failure and a wounded ego, inches away from a death wish. Weiss knew her words had cut deep, but she’d intended them to. Everyone had some fragment of pride they refused to trade or surrender, the last line of defense before everything was lost. Blake’s was a kneejerk reaction to the presumption of cowardice, while hers was the fear that she would never be anything more than her surname. Weiss had memorized the cracks in her facade from the moment they sprouted, for all the good it did her. Confronting one’s mistakes were cold comfort when repetition happened by instinct.

“Once we get inside, I’ll see what security is still active.” Weiss said, keeping her eyes firmly directed towards the windshield. The road was a blur of black and yellow, the moon above it waning into a dozen pieces. “Then I’ll go to my father’s office. Everything I want should be there.”

“You’ll have an hour. Maybe.”

Weiss scoffed. “Am I supposed to believe a group of White Fang are going to burst through my windows the moment we arrive? News does take some time to travel.”

Blake’s brow knit, a pained twinge flaring along the muscle. “Even before Adam, the Faunus were trying to figure out how to turn the tables, Weiss. They’ve had plans longer than I’ve been alive.”

“How long is that again?” Weiss asked with no small hint of venom.

A flare of Blake’s nostrils was the only visible sign of amusement. “Do you care because you want to think I’m out of my prime or because you’re afraid I’m not much older and still got this far?”

Weiss didn’t bother to dignify such a loaded question with an answer. Clearly the Faunus hadn’t been expecting one, as silence fell between them, mediated only by the white noise of the engine. Their surroundings were slowly becoming more familiar, although she was cursing herself for not paying more attention to the maps downloaded onto her scroll. With the screen broken and Blake blazing past every sign that might offer more details, there wasn’t much to do but grip Myrtenaster and keep her other hand surreptitiously near the buckle of her seatbelt.

When a white iron fence came into view, some of the tension bled away from Weiss’ shoulders. There was still another mile up the driveway past the first security checkpoint, but it was Schnee property nonetheless. Her home and her terms. Blake let up on the gas pedal after hours with a lead foot, coming to a clean stop at the gate.

Everything was automated, a pair of cameras whirring to face in the direction of the car. A holographic display warned that everything further down the road was a private estate and that guest passes would be scanned immediately upon entry. Blake tapped a button to roll down the driver’s side window as a security drone approached, possessing a single crimson eye akin to a sniper scope.

“Present your retinas, please.” The machine let out a warning beep. “Compliance is mandatory under the Hearth and Home Defense Act, section nine—”

Weiss felt a quick flutter of panic as she undid her seatbelt, forcing her way into Blake’s lap just as the drone’s scan activated. Red light blinded her for a split second, but with her hand shoved against the Faunus’ cheek for balance, the drone paid no attention to the second pair of eyes inside the car.

“Welcome home, Ms. Schnee.” The drone chirped. “Please maintain a speed of twenty miles per hour while approaching the house.”

Swallowing back her fear, Weiss realized she had jammed her knee into Blake’s hip, the other trapping the Faunus’ leg against the inside of the car door. Extricating herself without hitting her head was harder than she cared to admit, sitting back in the passenger seat with a faint flush climbing up her face. There was another lurch forward when Blake tapped the gas pedal again, urging the car past the gate as it slid open. Weiss clicked her seatbelt back into place, wondering if this debacle was going to leave her with a single shred of dignity.

“If the drone had scanned you and recognized you as a threat, you would have been shot on sight.” She said, feeling a tightness in her throat. The lack of response from Blake was almost more irksome than a mocking jab.

“I know.”

“You…know?” Weiss glared at the Faunus. “Have you been in my house before?”

“Not when you were there.” Blake shrugged. “How did you think I got here without asking for any directions?”

Whether that was implying a covert meeting with her father or simply theft, Weiss couldn’t tell. She would know soon enough. The turrets and drones positioned around the estate paid them no mind as the car crawled up the driveway; after Blake’s breakneck rush from the safehouse, it almost felt like walking would be faster than obeying the system’s arbitrary speed limit.

A pair of guards, blood and flesh this time, came into view at the same time as the house. Their suits and glasses were identical, making them nearly indistinguishable from the men who had died for her father’s sake. Weiss struggled to recall their names, but nothing came to mind. She had regarded them as barriers to her life, always watching and reporting; they were essentially disposable, and wasn’t that the point?

“Park here.” She gestured to a circle of pavement right in front of the main doors. “And let me answer their questions.”

The quirk of Blake’s mouth could have been amusement or disdain, but the Faunus obeyed nonetheless, killing the engine as soon as the guards approached. Weiss rolled down her window first to draw their attention, her free hand at the ready around Myrtenaster. She didn’t know what they had heard, what standing orders were in place.

“Ms. Schnee.” The taller of the pair did a poor job of concealing his surprise. “Your father’s been hospitalized. We were a day from reporting you missing.”

“I know, Roderick-” the name came to her lips with a small surge of triumph, “-Father had me somewhere safe. I need to get everything in order for when he wakes up.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I don’t recognize your driver, ma’am.”

Weiss forced a smile. “A few things are still above your pay grade, Roderick. It would be best to keep my arrival quiet until we’re sure the threat has passed.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you want us to store the car for you?”

She glanced at Blake, who had been pointedly looking in the opposite direction. Without the braid, the Faunus’ ears were partially concealed by dark hair, leaving that amber gaze as the only telling sign. There was a brief hesitation before Blake nodded and Weiss couldn’t help but agree; if the White Fang was going to put on a hunt, having one of their cars parked outside her front door was like a beacon announcing their location.

Weiss undid her seatbelt, returning her attention to Roderick. “In the back, if you would. It needs to be detailed.”

She held her hand out for the keys, quietly relieved when she heard the soft scrape of metal and felt their weight drop into her palm. The guards seemed woefully oblivious, but she could feel the tension thrumming through Blake’s body like an Aura about to burst, imagining it would take little more than an ill-timed twitch to prompt that curved black blade to slice through the windshield and into the nearest skull.

Roderick’s skin felt cold as she handed him the keys, their fingers brushing for just a moment. “If anyone comes onto the property, I need to know immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Weiss’ smile was brittle. There was no guile in the man’s face, no lurking malice, but Roderick had worked for the family for at least a decade. Long enough to remember when her uncle went missing from just outside this very estate, his limousine supposedly hijacked by the White Fang before he was murdered. Had he helped? How many people in this house knew the bargain that had been struck and kept it from ever reaching her ears? The men and women who devoted themselves to the company had always been so richly rewarded.

Without another word, she emerged from the car. The other guard’s eyes dropped down to her shoes, the rust-colored stains soaked into white slink leather. Blake’s approach from around the vehicle immediately distracted him, however, and Weiss was idly amused that the Faunus seemed to be at least two inches taller than the man, not including the second set of ears. Wisely, he said nothing, but Weiss felt his stare in the center of her back until they stepped past the front door.

Cold air washed over her skin, filtered into sterility. Everything seemed untouched in the foyer, although if someone had attempted to ransack the house, surely Roderick would have made some sort of comment. Despite the width of the hall leading to the massive central staircase, the only sound was a faint clink of crystal as the entryway candelabra met the wind from outside. Guards and servants alike were taught to be seen and not heard under her father’s heavy hand, existing as decorations and tools within his domain. It was the sort of discipline that could leave a mansion feeling empty.

“Did you trust him not to say anything?” Blake’s voice was a low rumble, almost a boom in comparison to the silence permeating the room.

“If he does, then we’ll know part of the problem, won’t we?” Weiss started to walk at a fast clip, plotting the most direct route to her father’s office. “An hour should be enough to shore up some sort of defense, unless you were exaggerating.”

“I don’t exaggerate.” Blake said flatly.

As much as she loathed the Faunus for making a gamble with the lives of her and Father, Weiss had yet to catch Blake in a lie. Obtuse truths, perhaps, but never an outright falsehood. Perhaps it was some sort of honor among thieves or a last desperate grasp at honesty, but she knew that for better or worse, it was one of the only things she could rely on. Weiss had officially revoked her trust in everyone she knew until proven otherwise, and the fact that the Faunus was making some tenuous progress said far too much about the state of her life at present.

The doors to the office were locked, but Weiss had memorized the combination years ago. Her mother’s date of birth and date of death, placed together and reversed. Be it arrogance or nostalgia that kept Father from changing such an important code, she had used it to her advantage for years, even if it was just to look at the portraits inside. They were the only ones of her grandparents and Mother in the entire house, held in stasis like all of Father’s most precious possessions.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Weiss heard the whisper of Blake’s ribbon. Sword slid free from sheath, the thick barrel on the back serving the same purpose as a hilt. It was a bizarre weapon all told, but she understood the desire to have it drawn. She didn’t plan on letting go of Myrtenaster, even if it meant curling up against the blade in her sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time she took comfort in its graceful design, polishing the steel until it reflected like a mirror.

In contrast to the rest of the house, her father’s office was dark. Ebony lay in tandem with black leather, iron studs and detailing giving weight to everything from the chairs and bookshelves. It was a huntsman’s lair, Weiss noted with irony, displaying power with the gutted and stuffed heads of Grimm and an array of swords, each possessing their own label. Her grandfather’s claymore was the largest in the set, arranged next to his wife’s flamberge, etched with the scorched runes used before a method to meld metal and raw Dust together in a forge had been perfected. The Schnee legacy had been carved out of fire and earth, a mastery of the elements no other could command.

At least, that’s what her father had said.

The monitor on his desk was thin and sleek, belying a simple set-up rather than the massive server embedded in the floor underneath. It could only be accessed from her father’s chair, any number of security systems laying in wait to shock and subdue an unauthorized user. Weiss sat down with a sigh, the stiff-backed leather a harsh reminder of the fatigue running through her body, the slightest slump in her posture.

“You know his passwords.” Blake mused.

“Of course I do.” Weiss said, positioning her hands over the keyboard. “If you would look away.”

The Faunus sighed but obeyed, turning to face the mounted head of an Ursa. “It’s almost like you expect me to live long enough to share them with someone.”

“You’re going to live as long as I want you to.” Weiss watched as the security protocols began to unlock on the monitor. “Until I have the truth.”

She should have expected Blake’s sharp laugh, but it still made her hackles raise. “Girl, you don’t own me more than anyone else. That’s what everyone in power forgets. Their control is a privilege granted by those too afraid to seek it out themselves.”

“I’m glad to hear the White Fang allowed you enough time to seek out a degree in political science.” Weiss punched in file names as quickly as she could, downloading a handful of them to one of the empty scrolls in the left drawer. She shoved it across the desk, the corner of the scroll sticking just across the edge. “Read this.”

Blake picked up the scroll with an air of disinterest, amber eyes quickly flickering down the screen. “What is this?”

“Everyone who works for my family. Household staff, the mines, lawyers. The last list is stockholders with enough shares to try and influence the company. Tell me who you hired. Anyone who might be an agent for the White Fang.”

The Faunus’ lips pursed into a tight line. “Bringing you here already made me a traitor. You want me to do it twice over.”

“It may be a stretch for your newly born conscience, but yes.” Weiss’ fingers hovered over the keys. The next file to open was labeled  _Protocol For Non-Human Employees_. “I need to know what I’m up against.”

She hadn’t expected a single click to open up an entire suite of images. They were all recently accessed files, helpfully marked with dates and times. Pictures and video activated simultaneously, forcing her to mash a key to cut off the volume. Text trailed across the bottom of the screen like a news announcement, and she knew her father’s words even without his voice to accompany it.

_This is a reminder that keeping these animals under yoke is the key to our success. Those who have not seen the depths of their brutality should take this presentation as a warning of what freedom would make them capable of._

The splashes of crimson in the images didn’t immediately register as blood. There was so much of it, twisted limbs and faces crying out in agony. A foreman bearing a Schnee logo on his breast had a regulation sword-pistol to the head of a rabbit-eared Faunus, the resolution high enough for Weiss to make out the raw, burned state of the woman’s hands, red Dust caked up to the wrists. Two boys with brown furred tails had their hands cuffed behind them, backs exposed to whoever was taking the picture. Lashes from the lightning-charged strike of a whip had cut them both nearly to the bone, slicing through a mass of previously healed scars.

Weiss forced herself to keep scrolling, even as bile threatened to surge up her throat. Various files were marked as  _conspiracy_  or  _rebellion_ , one of the videos showing a girl who looked close to her age tearing out an engineer’s throat with teeth too sharp to be human. There were hundreds of reports for every mine the company owned, recommending disciplinary tactics from reduced rations to taking Faunus children from their parents to other facilities if production didn’t improve.

_Disposal is a final measure, but may be effective for a contractor facing an organized riot. Use your discretion and report all losses to your supervisor for removal._

Biting down on her lip, Weiss brought up the search bar, cross-referencing the internal data with the White Fang. A password prompt immediately appeared, threatening to shut down the system within thirty seconds without a proper code. She entered her mother’s name and the proper string of numbers to follow, feeling her throat tighten when the screen threw back an error warning. Of course he would hide his worst secret with another layer of security; abusing Faunus was company policy, but allying with them was unthinkable.

She closed her eyes, typing in her name and birthdate before sedately pressing the enter key. When they opened, Weiss found herself looking at a chain of command. There was a blank square for the top rank of the White Fang, tagged only as _Leader_ , but underneath them was Blake’s stoic profile, connected by a line to Adam Taurus, the man who had been in the mask during the meeting.

“Here.” Blake dropped the scroll back onto the desk, startling her from staring at the screen. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Weiss picked it up with fumbling fingers. Her entire body felt numb as she took a deep breath to focus, looking over what Blake had marked. More than a dozen names were highlighted, some of them in the upper ranks of the company.

“You hired this many shooters?” She asked, not sure whether to be amused or flattered.

“The ones in blue are people the White Fang can rely on for intel and sabotage.” Blake reached over, sliding the list to another page. “The three highlighted red are the ones I hired.”

“Marcus Medraut.” Weiss tapped the name on the screen, bringing up his picture. Her throat went dry. “He’s the one who’s stationed at the door with Roderick.”

Amber eyes shot wide open. “Then the White Fang will be here any minute.”

“How did you not know?” Weiss snapped. “You paid him to shoot my father.”

“It wasn’t face to face.” Blake growled back. “It was supposed to be like a rival company was taking revenge, with absolutely no association to the White Fang. He never saw me and I never saw him. But he has Adam’s scroll ID for an emergency contact.”

“They’ll come to kill me, then?” Weiss said distantly. “Finish what you couldn’t.”

The Faunus’ jaw tensed. “Can you change all the security codes for the estate?”

Weiss sat up straight, Myrtenaster feeling like a dead weight in her hand. “Why do you care? I see what my father did, what you must have done. Third in line to hold more power than any other Faunus could dream of and  _now_  you’re guilty?”

“How much money would it take for you to abandon your family? How much time?” Blake roared, looming over the desk like a beast about to strike. “Could you disown everything bound to your name without a second thought?”

Weiss’ thumb was a centimeter from Myrtenaster’s chamber, ready to have it primed. “After what I just looked at, I wish I could.”

“Blood doesn’t leave you. You can turn your back, but that doesn’t change the legacy running in your veins.” The hand not gripping Gambol Shroud became a trembling fist. “Trust me.”

“I can’t trust anyone.” Weiss said breathlessly, adrenaline making her heart hammer in her chest. “I just want to know what’s stopping you from killing me.”

“ _Nothing_.” Blake’s knuckles rapped firmly against the desk. “Can you change the damn codes or not?”

“Why should I?” Weiss asked.

“Because Adam is going to expect a red carpet welcome from Marcus and whoever else is here on his payroll. If you scramble the codes, then he won’t be able to shut down the cameras and drones all over this place. The guards that are on your side will ask for help when they realize the system’s going haywire. The ones on Adam’s side won’t because they won’t want to rouse your suspicions by asking for the new codes.”

Weiss bit her tongue, willing the flicker of pain to help her focus. “If someone tries to activate the drones without the right code, it could turn on them. It could kill someone trying to help me.”

“Welcome to being the boss.” Blake said bitterly. “Do the cost-benefit analysis.”

Leaning back in the chair, Weiss wished her shoulders filled the width of the leather like her father’s, that she was tall enough for the metal studs to press into her back instead of threatening to catch on strands of hair. She was slight, a sliver of a person ground down to fit everyone’s expectations. A needle instead of a blade, meant to mend and soothe instead of conquer. Ice that shied from Father’s fire while simultaneously begging for its approval, to make her something more.  _Not perfect, not yet._

Not anymore.

“What will you do?” Weiss asked, meeting the Faunus’ eyes. That gaze had pierced her over and over, demanding her to notice. Only now did she realize that it was Blake’s silent way of showing regret.

“Some of them will get through. They won’t get past me.” Blake raised the bladed edge of Gambol Shroud. “You should hide.”

“I am  _not_  going to hide.” Weiss hissed.

The Faunus raised a brow. “There isn’t much point to this if you die in the process.”

“I’m not being a coward in your place.” Standing up from the chair, she swept past the Faunus, thumb flicking Myrtenaster’s chamber to yellow. “That isn’t negotiable.”

“Where are you going?”

Weiss barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she tugged sharply on the horn of the Boarbatusk skull jutting out from the wall. Behind it was a panel glowing with Dust energy, the exposed lines disappearing back into a series of complicated circuits. A brief shock made her shudder as the device scanned her fingerprints, the glow turning green when they registered.

“I’m changing the codes.” She said softly, punching in the password by touch alone. The panel didn’t have numbers imprinted on it; that would make sabotage far too simple.

The energy flared orange in warning as she hit the final key, signaling a countdown until the system reset. Anyone in the estate would see the drones go dark for a matter of seconds, the flash and click of adjusting cameras, but that was unavoidable. Blake’s assumption seemed fair; the guards who were concerned for her safety would ask, the double agents wouldn’t.

She pushed the skull back into place once the panel was green, listening for the subtle pop of the doors locking themselves again. There wasn’t anywhere much safer to be; her father’s office served as a panic room for all intents and purposes, absent any windows and enclosed by the rest of the house. Even an earthquake would be hard-pressed to shake the beams and supports built into floor and ceiling alike.

Weiss turned to face Blake. “Happy?”

The Faunus’ head tilted slightly. “We won’t be waiting long.”

It wasn’t an answer, but that didn’t change its accuracy. Weiss heard the mechanical rattle of machine gun fire kick up seconds later and prayed it had been a stray animal in the garden that drew the attention of the drone. There was a growing thrum setting her teeth on edge, the sound getting louder and louder until it felt like her body was vibrating with it.

“What is that?” She asked.

Blake frowned, eyes briefly flickering upward. “My guess is an airship. They may have been smart enough to land on the roof.”

That was when the shouting began. An explosion was muffled somewhere above them and Weiss tried not to grimace. “An hour, hmm?”

“I didn’t take into account that one of the men I hired would be idling at your front door.” Blake’s wrist twitched, the motion knocking loose a coil of ribbon and giving the blade another foot of slack. “You sure you want to fight?”

“Don’t ask me that again.” Weiss exhaled sharply. “I’m not the child you’re pretending I am.”

The Faunus’ expression was unreadable, mouth opening to give a reply when the office doors rumbled with an impact. Blake’s stance immediately shifted, Gambol Shroud’s blade beginning to swing in a tight circle.

“Can that sword keep a person still?” Blake asked. “More than one at a time?”

Weiss flipped the chamber to light blue. “Yes.”

“Then don’t let them move.”

A crack split the center of one of the doors as it was struck again. The thick wood started to splinter with a third blow, frustrated but unintelligible shouts audible from the other side. There was a sound like water pouring over flame, the fizzle accompanied by a bright red glow from underneath the door. It could only be red Dust, tightly compacted—

The doors were nearly vaporized by the explosion, the scent of charred wood and ash compounded by a massive cloud of crimson smoke. Weiss had reflexively raised her arm to cover her face, but her eyes and throat burned as she tried to see past the smoke, not wanting to freeze Blake by accident. There were careful footsteps over ruined carpet and scorched hinges, but no cry of warning came from where the Faunus had been standing.

When the cloud began to dissipate, the first thing she saw was the outline of a silver mask, then a second and a third. Adam was flanked by a pair of bull-horned men, so musclebound they barely fit through the jagged remains of the doorway. Weiss looked to her right, nearly frantic when she realized Blake was nowhere to be seen. In this tight of a space, being outnumbered was a death sentence; she could be boxed in on all sides in seconds.

“There you are, girl.” Adam’s oily tones had become an arrogant drawl, his crimson sword slanted to defend against any attack she might attempt. “Not as much of a sitting duck as your father was. I’m impressed.”

Blake had disappeared. Weiss tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat, to little avail. Had the Faunus abandoned her at the last moment, taking the chance to make a clean escape when Adam’s attention was elsewhere?

“So much for subtlety.” Weiss said aloud, ignoring how strained her voice sounded. “I thought you didn't want your little war connected to the White Fang.”

“It won’t be a war so much as a changing of the guard once you’re put down, Ms. Schnee.” Adam chuckled. “Although I’m curious to know how you escaped Blake’s custody. That’s a once in a lifetime achievement.”

She had never seen a blade move in perfect silence, yet that was what happened when Gambol Shroud’s ribbon suddenly shot out from behind her father’s desk and wrapped around the throats of Adam’s henchmen. The snap of it going taut yanked the pair of Faunus together, the curved blade slicing through their necks and leaving bloody, gaping smiles behind.

Adam’s reaction was instantaneous, his sheath shifting to fire a hail of bullets in the direction of the ribbon before he retreated in a black and crimson blur out of the office. The glyph Weiss threw missed by inches, sending shards of ice across the hall. She barely registered it when Blake flew over the desk, moving so quickly she could swear there were three of the Faunus at once. The henchmen were bleeding out and gasping, but Blake tumbled past them just seconds before Adam opened fire again.

“Oh, Blake!” He shouted from the end of the hall. “Why did I know you were going to disappoint me?”

Weiss edged closer to the doorway, shuddering when one of the Faunus on the floor tried to weakly grasp for her ankle. Positioned tightly against the remains of the farmost door, she could see down the hallway, the pitch black tip of Adam’s rifle protruding from the opposite corner. Blake had vanished again, but at least this time, Weiss could gamble on the fact that it wasn’t for good.

Myrtenaster whipped through the air, sending a chunk of ice directly towards the rifle. Adam recoiled in time, just as she expected, but it gave her the opening to step into the hallway, shifting the chamber to red. A glyph emerged with another thrust of energy, ready to repulse any incoming bullets. Except for the indignant dying gurgle of one of the henchmen, the rest of the house was quiet. How many soldiers Adam had brought to subdue her security, she couldn’t be sure, but it had been brutally efficient.

“How much did she pay you, Blake?” There was the boom of another gunshot, but by the sound, it hit nothing more than another wall. “What did she promise?”

Weiss continued to inch further down the hall, trying to keep as quiet as she could. If Adam was distracted enough, she could trap him in a cage of ice long enough for Blake to strike. The Faunus’ fighting style was foreign to her, appearing to rely on the element of surprise and mind-bending speed, but Blake’s only request had been to stop their enemy from moving. That was a simple enough task.

“Answer me, you twice-damned cat!” Adam’s voice was further away, somewhere she couldn’t see. Weiss bit back a curse as she approached the corner, watching for the first sign of a crimson blur. “The shadows won’t hide you forever.”

“A lot of talk coming from a mongrel in a mask!” Weiss shouted.

Her gamble paid off as Adam suddenly came into view, rage twisting his expression. Weiss fired off as many tendrils of ice as she could summon, Aura plunging the air around her below freezing. The Faunus shot through the first few icy coils with terrifying accuracy and blocked another with his sword, but the final barrage caught his hand and began to creep up his arm, intent on binding him in place. Weiss rolled out of the way as he squeezed off another pair of shots, the scent of singed hair and gunpowder warning that she had dodged by a split second at best.

There was a sound like breaking glass as Adam slammed his arm into the nearest wall, trying to shake off the ice, but Weiss caught sight of two amber pinpoints in the darkness behind him, just as a pitch black ribbon looped around the Faunus’ throat. Blake immediately pulled it tight as a garrote, trying to drag Adam down to the floor. The struggle between them was brutal, Adam reaching back in an attempt to claw out Blake’s eyes as soon as the rifle dropped from his hand.

They were too close together for her to risk sending another flare of ice to bind him in place, forcing Weiss to watch as Adam drove elbow after elbow into Blake’s ribs, the blows weakening as the veins in his neck popped up from the skin, his roar of rage compressed into a hoarse wheeze. Blood began to trickle down Blake’s face from a deep scratch as Adam finally collapsed, bringing both Faunus to their knees.

“This—won’t—end—here—” Adam choked out, reaching for the ribbon to try and pry it from his neck. “He’ll find you—”

“We’ll see.”

There was a sickening thud as Blake’s head slammed down, making contact with Adam’s skull. The other Faunus immediately twitched and went limp, his hands falling by his sides. When the ribbon was pulled free, there was a dark line where Adam’s throat had nearly been rubbed raw. Crescent moons punctured Blake’s palms from that relentless grip, but the Faunus staggered to standing, gingerly wrapping Gambol Shroud’s slack back around one wrist.

“Is he dead?” Weiss asked, keeping Myrtenaster directed at Adam’s chest.

“No, although I can’t say the same for the other bulls.” Blake glanced down to the hall to the office, jaw tensing. “You should call the police. I’m sure it’s a massacre downstairs.”

The thought made her stomach turn over, although it seemed more likely than not. “What about you?”

“I’m not letting myself get arrested.” Blake grimaced, clearly favoring one side. If Adam hadn’t shattered at least two ribs, Weiss would be shocked. 

“Why, I meant. Why did you kill them to save me?”

The Faunus’ initial reply was nothing but silence, bright eyes averting away. Weiss knew there was a reason, buried under the anger and bravado, if Blake would relent and give her an answer. Redrawing the lines between them - heir and criminal, each one more than the other - wasn’t so simple when she remembered the pain reflected in Blake’s gaze when she’d screamed that she didn’t want to be alone, that she wasn’t enough. It had lingered there just long enough to etch itself into her memory, surviving the burn of the kiss that followed.

“Maybe if I had someone when I was your age to protect me, I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes.” Blake said gruffly.

Weiss nodded, even if she didn’t believe that was the whole of it. “You won’t make it very far like that.”

Blake’s glare was automatic, but it was true. Aura could seal wounds and ease the ache of bruises or strained muscles; bones were too much for all save the most skilled healers. “I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s a guest house half a mile behind the mansion.” The offer left Weiss’ lips before she could think to stop it. “The police won’t look there.”

“You could tell them I was there.” Blake countered. “No reason that you shouldn’t.”

“You owe me two lives, at least. I won’t cash out a debt like that so easily.” Weiss said.

The Faunus’ eyes narrowed. “If that was a cat joke, it’s not doing you any favors.”

“You had four people killed to get to my father, didn’t you?” She waited for a nod. “And you killed two to save me. There’s a discrepancy.”

Blake’s laugh quickly collapsed into a cough, wincing as the sound rattled through battered ribs. “I suppose there is.”

There was nothing tangible stopping the Faunus from making it to the guest house and running even further. With Adam incapacitated, Weiss imagined it would take quite a bit of time for the White Fang to begin tracking Blake, if they even knew where to start looking. The odds would never be better. Yet she heard a long-suffering sigh leave the Faunus’ lips as Blake turned around, starting to limp towards the staircase.

Weiss waited until Blake’s dark silhouette was gone before slipping into the first empty room. It was a glorified storage closet, with leftover furniture from when her father set up scroll banks for political campaigns, but its steady connection to the communication network was the only thing she needed. She took the nearest scroll off the Dust charger, glowing a bright blue, and tapped three numbers in quick succession. The line buzzed for a few seconds before it connected.

“This is Vale Response and Dispatch,” a warm voice intoned, “what is your emergency?”

—-

The riots that came were of a different sort.

With Adam locked in solitary somewhere deep underground, supposedly turning tail and spilling his guts to the police, the White Fang found themselves surrounded on all sides. Blake had seen the cold satisfaction in Weiss’ eyes before the girl purged every agent of the family from the company, turning over a slew of evidence to the proper authorities just moments before personally signing the pink slips. It was the opening moves of a war.

The White Fang’s attempts to recoup the goodwill of the Faunus buckled when Weiss held a public press conference, complete with video footage of tattooed officers beating and mutilating their own kind. Blake hadn’t expected the extensive apology that followed, Weiss’ maligning her father’s business decisions as a relic of a barbaric era, ones that would promptly be fixed. The elder Schnee was still comatose, but his daughter spoke with a fire reserved for generals and kings, passion conquering inexperience.

While the Faunus were looking towards their potential liberation with a cautious eye, the other companies invested in Dust had erupted in chaos, some accusing Weiss of sabotage while the rest found themselves trying to fend of White Fang attempts at exploitation. Without Schnee backing, the Dust meant to serve as their advantage would quickly dry up, leaving the family vulnerable without another source of defense and income.

Blake had been ready to run the moment the ribs Adam had destroyed fused back together, when the shredded mess of a shoulder became a pale, puckered scar. It would have been the smart thing to do, even if it would leave a target painted squarely on Weiss’ back. The girl’s vitriol was admirable, but if she was alone when the White Fang called her bluff, there would be a bloody reckoning. The new guards hired for security were vetted, but they weren’t good enough. There was a difference between someone paid to protect and a soldier who knew gore and gunpowder like old friends.

The debt was immaterial. Death couldn’t be laid out on a spreadsheet, one body traded for another like stocks and bonds. That was the truth that made redemption a fairytale, to suppose that life’s scale could be balanced out with enough good deeds.

It was another truth that Blake had found Weiss crying in that hall of mirrors called a bedroom just a few nights after Adam’s arrest, overcome with the burden laid on her shoulders. Expecting the offer of an embrace to be rebuked, Blake instead found Weiss’ sobs turning into a grateful slumber, arms grasping tightly in turn. Touch had been the only salve as an orphan, as the bastard child of the White Fang, rage and grief alike soothed by the Faunus who lowered their guard long enough to show Blake sympathy, as family should.

It was reason enough to stay, for now.


End file.
